From the Pond, From the Nest
by neurofeces
Summary: Was it escapism? The flash of realization, the burn that would not be sated until he got a single moment? Of course that was all. Simple. ItsukiX?


Begun: 7-18-06

Completed:7-21-06 (I was on such a roll...This is the fastest fic I have ever completed.)

Final Tweakings: 8-11-06 (Just before the fourteenth, and school. I did spellchecking, end comments, and such then.)

Title: From the pond, From the nest

summary: Was it escapism?--the flash of realization, the burn that would not be sated until he got a single moment? Of course that was all--Simple. One truly had to wonder, how many frog princesses they could run through until they finally found a frog prince. Then, a single kiss and back in the pond he would go, stunned and confused. Nothing more was needed from a frog after all, just a splash in the pond, and a single moment of escape that wouldn't last. But birds were more difficult... (ItsukiX...)

**Warnings: there is a shounan-ai pairing, as well as implied ItsukiXMana, and Itsuki with a bunch of other girls too. The main pairing focused on in the fic, secondary to his with Mana, is the shounan-ai one, which, for reasons of pure evil plotness on my part, I will keep a secret. (Read and find out.) If you are cautious about those sorts of things, there is also a kiss, but only a kiss, and no implied special romance to it. Also there is a definite and alarming bewilderment--his shounan-ai crush obviously doesn't feel the same... If you prefer, this is a bit more of a lust-fic than a real romance fic, so if you want fluff, you might have to broaden the definition from cotton candy to something a little less sugary. **

I'm depressed, so most of my writing's gone depressing of late, but I have my apparently traditional summer humor fic on the way to being done soon too, so that should cheer people up when I get around to it. That fic's centered on Kaoru's little group, but told from Mizunagi's perspective (I think he's great (smile)) as the world seems to be bent on driving the poor chain smoking, and normally collected psychic absolutely batty.

Does that brighten your mood?

Hmm. Too bad. This may depress you just a little. (evil smile) Enjoy, my little emo pigeons.

Lafayel: I hate those bloody birds!

NF:Shut up you jerk featherduster! Go off and mess with Mizu's mind or something! You're not in this, and I'm in a crappy mood.

Lafayel: (walks off muttering under his breath)

NF: (emo pigeon lands on her head with a letter in it's beak) (NFsighs) Oh no...not _more _inspiration. Leave me alone you stupid birds!

(chaos ensues while Nf runs around screaming with strange epithets at the emo pigeons swarming aorund her)

Lafayel: (blinks and stares)

Mizunagi: ...And to think we couldn't take over this place because of girls like her. We're a bunch of wusses, Lafayel.

Lafayel: (irritable) Be a wuss _alone_.

_Disclaimer: Walt Whitman's "I sit and look out" comes from a 1921 edition of his collection Leaves of Grass. The book is in my possession in all it's near-antique glory, but the words are not. They are used with full credit to this long-dead poet, so no feelings are hurt. (And isn't it so perfect for Itsuki?) Two lines are omitted, but that is likewise allowed, as this--my fic-- is not published anywhere else (why would it be). Since this is fanfictionDOTnet after all, the fact that I do not have any hand or say in the plotline, workings, or art of Juvenile Orion is a given. Anyone who wishes to challenge me on this fact I shall smile at sweetly and shake my head at while muttering about idiot smart alecks. If I DID have any great part in it, I believe someone would know by now due to the rather...unique content and styling of my chosen works, which would require great adaptation and warping to come out in any...okay, never mind. The point is made. Let the ranting cease!_

(the fic proceeds to wax serious wroth)

-o-O-o-O-o-

_"I sit and look upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame_

_I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done,_

_I see in low life the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate,_

_I see the wife misused by her husband, I see the treacherous seducer of young women,_

_I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love attempted to be hid, I see these sights on the earth,_

_I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny, I see martyrs and prisoners..._

_All these--all the meanness and agony without end I sitting look out upon,_

_See, hear, and am silent."_

_-I sit and look out, _Walt Whitman

-o-O-o-O-o-

Perhaps it was only the merest sort of escapism--this. Perhaps that was all any shred or mockery of love could be reduced to--or at least attraction could be reduced to--he didn't bother trying to fool himself that this could be love, likely it was just a flash. He knew how to deal with those at least.

Yes... perhaps that was it...all it was...hormones and fancies glued together with the desperation brought about by a hidden despair at the war consuming his life.

Escapism was wonderful in many ways, be it through his hectic work schedule, or his indulging of a couple of brief moments on a roof with Kirihara pointing out cloud creatures in the midst of a war that had spanned centuries... Escapism could even extend to charity. It would certainly explain his small underground service correcting love letters--he got a sort of satisfaction when the girls succeeded. It satisfied him to see them happy, made him feel accomplished and content somewhat if not happy himself. For all his laughter and jesting, he himself hardly smiled in any true humor beyond the facade he had created. But of course he felt all the more kinship with the poor girls he extended his possibly escapist compassion to, when they failed.

Nobody ever searched for a frog _princess_...she had to sew herself a little human skin to wear and find herself a prince with her own hands, and bring him to her by taking the first step. Those lazy human men...

Of _course _sometimes the poor girls failed. Poor, sweet, romantic--if somewhat optimistic--girls. They trusted implicitly that the world would turn out the way it hoped...that was a sense he had long since lost, himself, and he found it touching in a way. Sweet, outdated, and naive, and utterly useless in the midst of a war...but these humans were free from war. And sometimes he envied them for it...yes...when they were broken and weeping, then he felt kinship with them. "now you know how I feel." was how it could be compressed into words, though he would never tell them so. (they would never understand they were free.)

'Now you know how I feel when for years I saw my sister lying there, helpless under a power she could not control...now you know how I feel when I tested and prodded constantly, looking for a mindbreaker to entice, looking for just some way to make her walk, make her smile, make her live again...selling myself into slavery for my sister was something I would have done...just like you will sometimes warp your entire beings, your entire lives around these men who might cast you aside in an instant...'

It isn't fair, is it?

But of course, it never is. Sweet fools. Sweet, innocent, oblivious fools.

In rejection,he himself could work through the greatest seduction of all (If only most men knew!)--_listening_. He would listen and smile and nod sympathetically, pass them tissues, buy them meals as they sobbed it out. He truly made them believe he cared for them, sympathized as well--they were sweet little innocent things, like children. But he usually didn't USE this possibility for seduction...unless he wanted to, that was. And if he was clever enough, he would get what he hoped for if he so needed to end the whirlwind that burned inside him beyond the realms of escapism--the burning _need_...

It was really like trying a slipper on Cinderella, or more accurately like a princess in a frog pond searching for a prince among the amphibious plague--just a single kiss, nothing worse or any less chaste, so it truly wouldn't be accurate to call him a _player_--he would have never had the heart to take such a thing from an ordinary human girl, especially one so fragile and innocent, and suddenly broken. That would hurt them far too much, and in a way he truly did want them all to be happy...They at least had the opportunity to live out a life free or REAL suffering. Just a single kiss. That was all he would need, and he would escape again, free as a bird, comparably lighthearted, freed from the shackles of the flash lust for their lips, for their taste...

Like an epicure of wines, really...

But then of course there was the irritation of his flash obsessions that would set off that need that required so much agony on his part, that jail away from precious escapism. His own desires were difficult for him to control, and impossible to escape from. A tilt of a head, even a harsh word spoken in just the right way, beautiful eyes, a delicate mouth, a sweet and infectious laugh, or an anguished cry amidst tears...anything really, just a single feature and that would be it, he would fall for them. He would thirst desperately not for their bodies but for their mouthes, for their delicate flavors and the myriads of different ways they took to it--those who struggled against him, those who stood mute with shock, those who melted into him and wept when more didn't follow--those plagued his conscience the most--he didn't want to break anyone's _heart._ Broken things would work, but oftentimes could not be re-coaxed into their former shape. There were so many differences, so many flavors as well--lipstick in and of itself had a million subtleties to it... All he wanted in a way was a taste of that optimism, that childish hope that he himself seemed so without, and in the payment of a moment, he would have enough to last a little longer.

Even though he'd been willing to sell himself as a slave to save his sister, he too was not without needs...

That one kiss would be all he needed. He'd satisfy himself, or disappoint himself after that kiss, and would be completely content to watch them walk into the distance with another hand in theirs afterwards, looking back with puzzlement on the person who'd subtly taken a payment for his services. If they could be happy with any other, he would smile--Go on...it's your life. Thank you for giving me at least that much hope.

Even his mindbreaker had felt his need that once. She had been so naive, so sweet, so unassuming. A refreshing and unique innocence--better than any other mindbreaker he could have hoped for, freeing his sister in an instant, out of kindness. Yet, she was still at once entrapped in the same spiral he was, the same stagnant pond of murky war, and black waters filled with blood and hatred, yet like the others she was still hopeful, still fresh and clean.

No wonder the other mindbreaker girl had seen her as a 'fresh, clean, new doll'. The dimpled, rounded smile...The liquid eyes, just dark enough to hide the rings within that showed her to be a mindbreaker except in direct light...the warm gentle hands...She had been a perfect blend of ideals for him, a perfect thing for him to fall prey to, and of course he had.

...Barely a brush of lips really, just a sort of innocent wonder in her eyes, confusion, not realizing until the instant it happened, then jerking away in reflex, with a gasp and a plaintive cry of his name, stunned, surprised. It hadn't even been _real, _perhaps. Not only because it had taken place in his mind, but also because in a way, that was the one occasion he wasn't truly satisfied... but then again, that could simply be the way his bond to his mindbreaker was anyway--it certainly seemed to have snared others so.

As long as she kept smiling though...she would still be, in a way, his own perfect ideal, and in a way, the other's too. Kaname loved her unquestioningly. Isshin was absolutely tormented and infected with her to the point of all but ruining himself. And who knew what the others thought of her. Nakaura's reasons for being near her were murky--likely to protect Amou more than protect her. And Amou clung to her out of what seemed a desperate love bourne of forgiveness, or perhaps even he was ensnared as well? He wasn't certain. Haruna of course saw her as a friend, and while his sister's sexuality had never been an issue or a question to him, in a way she had her own reasons to be nearly constantly around Kirihara as well. Perhaps that was what it was truly like to be mindbroken--simply a slave to an obsession he couldn't so easily erase--that none of them could erase.

Kirihara was a magnet.

And of course watching another boy kiss a girl over and over again never ceased to amaze him. He was awed by Kaname's continued affection for Mana, how he could keep kissing her without so quickly losing interest. He might have seemed quiet and aloof, but he was certainly far warmer than the frog-princess-kisser that his best friend was. Kaname had a bonfire of warmth hidden in him, while his best friend burned and extinguished and flickered with all the heat and warmth of a candle in comparison. He wasn't proud of his tendency to tire after a single kiss, but he couldn't change it either. And attempting to pretend that bonfire within that seemed to truly be the dream of women, only made him repulsed by the girls he had once been so drawn to. So he moved on, his legs immersed in pond water as he searched for the next little frog that he could snare, and a sweet moment of joyous escapism.

If he just kept his eyes on the pond, and his nose in its stench and stagnation after all, then he would never have to acknowledge that there could be a sky, that there could be hope up there...No, if he looked above him, he could be threatened by despair for where he was, how he could never seem to get close enough to the sky of hope...No, escapism was better. In some ways the only way to keep sane was to force ones-self into escapism. One inane, pitiful task at a time, consuming and absorbing himself in it. If he became painstakingly attentive to detail, perhaps he could avoid the "big picture"...

What if I wanted to pretend to be normal just a little bit longer?

...Of course, he should have seen it coming then, since this was hardly even in the rank of the DOZENTH time this had happened. Why else would he continue to wait in the pond if he didn't know another frog would come along? ...Of course, he had hardly expected to be smitten for HIM--or any man of course. He could have mused upon the draw feature being the pair of wings, or the attractive face, but it had been none of those things though he'd seen miracles certainly. No, it had been something simple, he was sure of it--it was always something simple.

Skin?

Skin was always a help of course, especially with a visually oriented man. Prostitutes made it their selling trademark, and it seemed to entice and do it's job quite well in their case. But he'd seen plenty of bare male torsos before. Perhaps it was the warmth of his personality, but others shaowed warmth within as well... Perhaps it was the posturing then? Yes...perhaps...the especially demure gestures, hiding himself. His figure at least had been almost womanly. But in any event it was certainly the first time his flash obsessions led him not only outside gender, but also outside species.

Why him? He would have expected Kaname even--if it had to be a guy, then why not his best friend? Was Kaname not good enough? Perhaps his body had even avoided Kaname for fear of tearing him and Kirihara apart somehow. They were too precious to him. But still...Why him?

Why..._Amou?_

Come to think of it, it was likely also the first time his feelings had potentially homicidal repercussions.

Anyone who went near Amou without the purest of intentions or anything that could be PERCIEVED as impure intent could find their face throbbing for over a week, even if they had an advanced capacity for healing. He'd already been on the receiving end of the priest's fist on one occasion already, and he wasn't in a hurry to gain another. He was irritated at himself, that was certain, but he couldn't stop thinking of his classmate, his comrade. And perhaps it had been that protective distance that had cultivated such emotions in the first place...

He'd forgotten himself it seemed, and had looked a little further up from the pond than he should have...into a nest.

There was a strange empathy to his features at times, the somber, sad smile that Amou could wear, or the quiet, hopeful laugh he shared with their mindbreaker. Perhaps it was that strange element of duality--there were many dualities to the gentle nature of Tsukasa Amou, hidden behind his gorgeous, androgynous countenance. His humanity mingled with his eraser form, the strange maleness and at once femaleness of his face and body...and of course that strange mixture of wounding, of pain, and yet the flashes of sudden hope, of a wild, strange freedom in his almost reflective eyes.

This was no frog...this was a bright jeweled bird indeed, with white, crippled wings. He had once flown in hope, perhaps. He had dwelled closer to it than Itsuki ever would--that much he was certain of. but to cripple a bird and leave it in it's nest for too long, seemed to erase any memory of the sky from it...

Yet how could he still trust that hope was there? There seemed to be certain enticing aspects to him that were difficult to figure out. But Tsukasa Amou was hardly a girl, who could spill her entire life to a friendly smile. For one, he had almost no life to spill. Perhaps even he himself didn't understand what he thought and why he thought it. Perhaps that was what could so draw in a psychic who dealt in minds like a pond could deal in nasty insects.

Yes, he had drawn himself to that little crippled bird, intrigued by the distance and the subtleties he could promise himself to never fully decode. Now he could not free himself without first capturing him.

It was a time for careful planning now, and he was all the more frustrated that the gentle eraser was as bad as any girl--he was hardly ever alone! He was surrounded by people, drawn by his quiet, gentle beauty, his compassionate heart. Amou was truly patient, like Mana. Both were well liked, though there were usually very few pure intentions around the striking blond--nearly as few as there were around the innocent girl with her generous proportions. His poor overprotective bodyguard figure would sweep around like a buzzard, flocking the girls away from his own precious prize. It had been wondered more than once what spell Amou could possibly have over the priest. Even _he _had to feel something when faced by his beauty, and of course, that would only make Itsuki thrash more furiously in the stagnant pond water, aching for his prize, only to see that fearful black eyed bird drift around him, proud almost of the little bird his in his lofty nest. A precious, protected egg. His swift black feathers folding back as he preened himself, staring down almost haughtily at the pond below, and pulling a silent black wing, hiding the harmless white fledgling from sight.

Perhaps Amou even belonged to _him_, forbidden as it could be. They certainly didn't act like father and son...Everyone knew of course that they _weren't_. Amou nonetheless claimed that was their relationship--LIKE father and son. Of course if it was NOT, they would have to keep up the facade... Even with this in mind, he could do nothing to shake the obsession.

He himself had to bide his time, looking for when the great fearsome black bird was away.(Oh how his easy touch of the boy seemed to taunt him!) Since Nakaura struck him he had never really quite been able to forgive the teacher, especially now that he had something he couldn't help wanting, coveting with all his being what was so easily within the priest's grasp. His desires were spreading from the demure posturing--or whatever it had been that had started him in the first place--to his every gesture, his every expression tinged with it's faint tragedy or faint hope. Had he needed anything more than a single kiss to end the raging desires in him, his presence might have even helped Amou--affected as Itsuki was by his presence, he was no longer able to find the scars on his back gruesome, but rather found himself thinking that the skin would probably be soft there, and perhaps that would have comforted the rather shy angel figure to touch the wounds gently, rather than forcing him to hide them ashamedly. (though likely he would be terrified should he ever touch him so.) He could hardly risk it, nor would he, in any event

But perhaps now, he finally had his chance. Haruna and He were alone with the boy, walking home from school. The time had come and that great sweeping black bird had allowed his little white winged fledgling out of his protective nest for that instant, on a low branch just within reach... So close! If he could just get rid of Haruna for a second, he could easily sate the burning that coursed through every inch of his body... All he wanted was to end this. Even if Amou was beautiful, something about him was also vaguely disconcerting. And he found himself, besotted as he was, rather conscious that the object of his desire was male, that something was subtly wrong. With so many potent thoughts and passions running through him, it was amazing that his sister hadn't commented on it if she could feel it. He would have thought that she would have looked at him like he was a pervert or a predator, then would have taken Amou far away for his own protection, but even she could only flit about with the fragile white winged bird, apparently too grateful to be out of her _own _oppressive nest to notice that the delicate little cripple-winged bird beside her might be in grave danger.

Itsuki guessed that the boy would likely be as naïve as Kirihara until the very last possible instant (Naïf? He'd heard that was the masculine form of the word, if it could be applied to someone as androgynous as Amou...) He still wondered what the boy could do: scream?--He'd have to run then, and he hated to think what stares of horror he might get in the future, that all semblance of friendship might be cut off, and that was a painful thought, because Amou was a dear person, and had been, even before he had been struck by feelings. Would the poor eraser simply stare, shocked, unable to speak or move, stiff as a statue. Or would he possibly even go along with it?--then of course he would have to face the wrath of his overzealous protector for _corrupting _the boy, which he might have to deal with ANYWAY... He wondered how he could possibly feel hope after all of this--this was by far his most depressing quarry ever.

There he was, walking along, a faint smile curving his small, perfect lips. His hair framed his face in gold, like a painting of an Italian, iconic angel, minus the halo--and even then he had that hair of gold to act in its place... Anyone could recognize him as beautiful, but it wasn't that alone that had the draw in his chest. He shuddered faintly. He needed it. Soon. He couldn't take this much longer. He would be lucky if by any means he could get through this without scarring the already scarred boy for life. He was dimly terrified at the prospect of what he was going to do, but it couldn't be helped. This had to be stopped, and there was only one way to do it.

The dimmest terrible thought of all was what might happen if he found someone he could stand more than one kiss from and it turned out to be this poor boy. He didn't even want to think about it, thus it caused him more fear since he TRIED not to consider it.

His grim eyes met his sister's. "I need a fix." He was surprised at the growl of his own voice, so low that even Amou didn't hear it, it caught in his throat, twisting. His sister's eyes widened momentarily. She could probably tell that he wasn't talking about his nicotine addiction--yet another of his terribly vexing escapisms. Her eyes flickered over Amou's form, but met his with a faint nod. Concern marred her features. 'please don't say anything' he begged internally. Haruna shut her eyes for a moment, and opened them, contorting her face into a wooden mask of concern. "Oh no! I think I forgot something..."

Amou's lovely face likewise became faintly marred in confusion. "Would you like to go back for it? We could turn around." He asked in that soft voice of his, sympathetic and gentle. "Oh don't worry, I'll just run back and get it, you just keep going." Her eyes shot to her brother's. He almost smiled. Despite their bond, it was possible that she assumed he had forgotten his cigarettes at school and was fetching them for him: a kind gesture, but not the fix he needed. Perhaps she knew, perhaps she didn't. Maybe she would tell him later.

His eyes shot over Amou again. Soon. soon. "Lets keep going then, Haruna can catch up." He said in what he assumed was a lighthearted voice--it probably was. He'd gotten good at acting to get the kiss. The problem with this was that there was no way Amou would kiss HIM, meaning he would be forcing the boy, but this would be it at least, then afterwards he could stop following him around (that was probably alarming, though Amou was too polite to say anything). They were passing by an empty construction lot. They often took cuts across this--it would be perfectly ordinary...nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary.

This would be his branch, his nest, he would have no reason to wonder at the fingers reaching down to scoop him up from his nest...

A kiss was just a kiss...

Amou was innocently walking with him as they talked quietly, easily about the contents of one of the classes, no...a test! They'd been talking about a test...Amou's face was smooth and faintly pleased, relaxed quite happily. He was in an almost chatty mood today...He had pleasant voice tones, even if Itsuki couldn't focus on what he was saying...

He felt ice on his spine, then prickles of uncomfortable heat skittering down and curling painfully in his chest. Soon.

Good...they were far enough in...free from prying eyes, the sounds of the street even faintly dimmed...

Now.

It was so easy to lure the boy into the shadow of a building, a simple claim of some sort. He hardly knew the words issuing from his mouth. Amou followed along like a little puppet, not knowing what his friend intended at all...not even the faintest suspicion...

_Now!_

Of course he always had to touch the face, the hair at least once, even if they never spoke again, he could remember the scent, the softness of all things that related to any person who could bring him his needed fix--his escape. Any addict looked for an escape from something. They looked for something that would dim or sharpen and bring forth a softness to the memory or the pain... And of course his hair was soft, if a little frizzy from the breezes of the day. His skin was delicate, and lacked the powdery cake of make-up that Itsuki had become accustomed to on women. Such tender skin...Almost a womanly softness to him…

Amou's eyes widened slightly in surprise but did not show fear--not yet. He'd backed him into a wall almost--that way he wouldn't jerk away so quickly as Kirihara had and leave any possible feelings behind. He wanted this over with _now_. This was strange enough as it was, he didn't need any residual trace of Amou in him. His face grew closer, alarm began to register in the eraser's features. "Itsuki-kun?" He whispered, confusion creeping into his voice. He shrank back, against the wall, not yet afraid, simply confused, puzzled, not _afraid_...not _yet_.

When he moved yet closer, Amou's brow contorted into a frown. His hand quickly went up to stop him from getting closer. "Itsuki-kun, I think-" He simply took the eraser's wrist into his hand and leaned forward, quietly sounding a "shhh." as he placed a finger over the boy's soft lips. Amou's body stiffened, his eyes shooting open yet wider, all the color draining from his face. He didn't speak at all now, his breathing increasing quite quickly, face white. Itsuki knew enough to at least know that this was no heavily breathed desire, but was a pant of fear.

Amou now seemed to realize what could be about to happen, or perhaps he was even imagining worse. His hand resisted, trying once again to push Itsuki back to a more comfortable distance. But Itsuki gently pressed it against the wall. Amou's eyes bulged now with fear, with dread. he was nearly hyperventilating--far from afraid, he was _terrified_. 'Poor boy. He doesn't deserve this...nobody should do this to him. Who knows what he might deal with what with sensei at home with him...but...there's nothing else I _can_ do.'

The boy would be payment for his addiction to hope, to comfort, to an _escape_. Amou made to move away, to pull back and free himself.

Itsuki's lips settled over his firmly, drawing him back by the wrist.

He took into account first how small the lips were, and how much heat seemed to rise from the eraser's skin. The lack of lipstick was notable, but not quite as surprising as he would have thought. What surprised him more was the roughness of tiny scabs on Amou's lower lip where he had bitten it--how had he failed to notice such a habit? Amou's head moved weakly, trying to break free, resisting. The only thing that likely kept him from being violently thrust away in that instant was the subconscious thread of Amou's politeness--any other man would have likely become violent. The eraser's entire body was stiff as a board in subconscious violation and fright. His own politeness kept him from saving himself by a harsh push, or a kick, or a strike--he certainly could have done it. His body trembled. A faint, muffled whimper escaped the captive mouth. And with that, Itsuki's heart ached for what he was doing. This wasn't right...not to _Amou_. This was different than with a girl, this was no game. Amou was an _eraser_. He could have killed him for such a thing had he chosen to...yes...there was something strange about this...something that made his stomach clench...something that _repulsed _him about it.

'This isn't right.'

His taste was unique as he coaxed open his mouth, but not outstanding, his warmth was likewise unique but not a cause for worry. He hardly seemed ill. The fear in his body language was distracting and heart wrenching, but not cause to pull away... His pulse beat wildly in his wrist, and shuddering breaths like sobs were starting to come, even trapped as he was. The pain, the violation of his trust...that was almost tangible, and it hurt more than it helped--that was different from all the other times he had latched onto his unique "fix"... Itsuki felt something in him ache all the more, and realized that this was entirely wrong--it felt nothing like it was supposed to. There was no warmth to this, and he could feel the pain he caused so _acutely_.

Something was very wrong with this...

He was stronger than Amou bodily. The boy's human form was slender and delicate--though his Eraser form could have easily burnt him to a cinder, or ripped off a limb or two. No eraser, despite slenderness or frailty of appearance, was to ever be underestimated. If Itsuki had wanted to do more, he probably could have forced himself upon him--his mind was utterly human, his heart too gentle, despite the power of his eraser form, it was obvious in how he reacted to such a thing as this, almost helpless. If Itsuki had intended for more, Amou probably would have never even thought of stopping him by means of his other form, such was the extent of his unintentional humanity. He was just like an ordinary human--a lot like Kirihara in fact. That strange mixture of the damning of war, but the innocence of peace. It was a unique helplessness... but...that wasn't what he had meant...that wasn't what he had meant at all--to make Amou weak and defenseless... This was different than any fake smile or seduction of yet another weeping girl. This was...his _friend_...and he was _hurting _him. Before he had never had his intentions taken for something vile...perhaps he was being harsh... Tenderness was a large part of what he had hoped to convey. When he reached up to touch Amou's cheek again, hoping somehow to reassure him, relax him, he found tears. That was the last thing that pressured his conscience and convinced him to cease, clenching his stomach in an icy pit. 'I made him _cry_...' He quickly pulled away.

He didn't feel full. He felt empty...

Poor Amou's beautiful eyes seemed ready to burst with tears. His lips quivered, his eyes still wide in that same terror, his body flattened against the wall, as far away from Itsuki as he could make himself, shrinking back, seeming small, frail, fearful under his gaze. Itsuki felt an aching warmth mingled with conscience well up inside of him, heavy deep regret, causing him to then wrap his arms around to hug the startled boy. His frame was small as a girl's but had very little of a girl's softness of body. His body was spare and thin, and it trembled violently even in the embrace. He struggled briefly, but Itsuki bent his lips close to an ear. "I'm sorry." He whispered softly. Amou's body ceased to move. "I'm sorry I frightened you. If you want to retrace your steps you can walk back with Haruna if you like. You don't have to walk with me, or even talk to me again." The angel said nothing, only trembled. He did not return the embrace, still looking ready to burst into tears, his arms wrapping tightly around himself, touching his shoulders. There was betrayal in the boy's gaze, and a faint echo of the innocence that the girls would ask with, beg for an answer with when rejected, the same word visible plainly there...

"Why?" He whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. Poor Amou...All for nothing. He'd offered to sell one of his own comrades for his own pleasure. What a sick creature he was...Had the Aquarian Age so destroyed him? Would he become yet another one of the black-smoke sin belching factories of destruction that had trapped his sister?

Itsuki smiled, his chest panging sympathetically, but unrepentantly--the past could not be changed. Later on he would lie to himself for so long that he could convince himself that it had been a tender gesture. His feelings had vanished, wilted away, for once not under relief, but under guilt. "Go on. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore. I'm not going to do anything, I promise. Go on. I...misunderstood something." Amou's look to him was one of pure and utter shock. He seemed to be absolutely shaken by the combination of Itsuki's previous action and now his little speech. The poor eraser still trembled all over. His lips pressed into a white line, and his hand covered it. His horrified eyes still brimming dangerously.

"What the _Hell_, do you mean...by '_misunderstood'_?" Amou asked shakily. His eyes narrowing, and a hand going over his mouth. He looked utterly sickened. The unspoken questions in the eyes that still slowly leaked tears. "What...gives you the _right_...to do that?" He whispered, trembling. His eyes had gone impossibly narrow, pale eyebrows twisted terribly. Disgusted. "You already have every _reason _to know I'm not a girl. Did you have to _test _me again?"

Itsuki's eyes returned to him sadly. Yes, he had done that hadn't he?

_You're so pretty some people think you're a girl. So we just want to make sure._

He'd begged him back then too…not to do it, not to humiliate him, not to show his scars to the world.

Yes, he had no place in a pond, he had to be out, had to be free, had to escape...This bird didn't tremble in his hands like a frog, he had pinned down its wings more cruelly than he had realized, and the poor thing stared at him now with large, wounded eyes...how could he have ever hoped to catch this creature?

Had he still some shred of naiveté left that he himself had not known exactly what he had wanted until it was too late? He hadn't wanted this...not really. Not at this cost.

And he could hear the cries of frogs all around him as he held the accidentally wounded bird, quivering in his hands.

Broken things were easier to manipulate, but wouldn't always return to their previous shape…

"No. That wasn't it at all…Amou...I'm sorry about all of this." It was never truly his intention to hurt the boy. He had never even considered that he might have shaken him so. He placed his hand to the eraser's forehead, ruffling his hair faintly. He'd seen Nakaura do that to him before, maybe it would calm him with its familiarity…

Again, surprise registered, when with another it might have been anger. Amou's reflexes...or perhaps it was his heart that was hardly made for war, held him in shock rather than violence. Perhaps it had been that hidden purity that had driven him to his attraction, not mere posture or beauty. Innocence. "I know you struggle so hard to remember...but, trust me...this once. _Forget._" The power trickled over Amou's skull, almost tangibly into it, and the boy's eyes lidded, his entire expression smoothing dimly. With a soft sigh he collapsed forward. Itsuki caught the smaller boy rather gracelessly.

He smiled faintly at the smaller boy's sleeping face. "It's cruel of me, but it's the only way…" He whispered, tousling his hair again gently. "…to put things back to normal." He laughed without humor. "You're right. Nothing gives me the right. And I'm glad you showed me that. You really are a good kid...and you were right, your heart and soul are human…more than mine at times."

He waited a few moments, setting out the boy's body in the sun. Soon Amou's eyes fluttered again. "Hey sleeping beauty, you done fainting yet?" Amou gasped and jumped up, staring at the new, large amount of white dust across his black uniform. He began dusting himself off. "I...I fainted? I really fainted?" He whispered, going pale.

His smile was nothing but illusion. Pretending, he was good at. All he said was "yeah." Then a bunch of other things about how he should be careful, and eat more red meat, and cut himself less, which of course made the boy laugh after a faint blink, and a worried look at the ground he'd lay on.

In his mind, he made his choice, and placed the little bird back in it's nest, trickling the pond water over his sleeping head to hide his scent, disappearing back into the murk of the pond. Neither fledgling or great guardian bird seemed to realize. Amou's eyes looked haunted by lack of sleep for close to a week--some things could never be completely erased, and the body knew, even if the mind did not...but after that, he began to sleep again, and still Nakaura looked upon Itsuki with that blankly wary look. But again, Itsuki's smile was back in place. The faint thread of illusion that he hid behind. They would never know…none of them.

He had no right. Every glance up at that nest would tell him that. Every vaguely puzzled look Amou would give him, speaking that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what... that would always remind him of the price he'd nearly sold for his own comfort. And something about Amou would always be attractive to him, but he was a creature of hope, and of the skies. All Itsuki could ever do was smile, happy in his pond, knowing he could still watch the skies, and still have the white winged bird perch beside him on a rock, frogs following him hopefully wherever he went.

The next day, he caught a little frog kicking in his pond, looking up at him, bewildered, but vaguely pleased.

He let it go with a faint splash back into the pond, and he waded to the bank, looking up the sky and smiling to himself because he had perhaps figured out a way to get himself at least a little closer to it...

Simply leave the pond.

Some had no choice as to where they went after all--crippled wings banishing them to nest or bed forever...

Until someone made certain to find some way...to free them.

From the pond...

And from the nest.

_End._

-o-O-o-O-o-

This is the fastest fic I have ever finished. It's _amazing_! (zooms around in the infamous sunflower cloak borrowed from FoolishMortal-san...)

Okay...I'm calm now. Time for some constructive and all too detailed information on the fic (I'm very happy with it).

Originally in first draft the thing was a lot more playful and sort of whimsical on Itsuki's part. It was all no different really, no more outstanding, and he just kind of skips along the surface of his little pond like a stone, happy as a rock can be, even when he comes up against someone of his own gender... but then Tsukasa's fear-moments really kind of sank in and I'm like 'you know what...Itsuki's a psychic...it's not like he's so blind he could just ignore that' thus the fic gained in it's strange stagnant, pond-smelling kind of belly-twisting plot points, and Tsukasa got treated as more than just a little clump of happy dirt. Then the allegory kind of sank in too much on the third day, and the fic rose again in its current form complete with pond allusions, toads, frogs, and birds galore, with a sky of hope overhead and ever unreachable...blah blah blah, typical NF purple prose attack.

I am still surprised at my efficiency. It's like 'wow...I really DID get something done when I was supposed to be working on chapter nine of Control!' (realizes what she just said and dodges pitchforks) Well...I'm working on the epics all over the place too. (Gracious Wings owns my soul…well…PART of my soul at any rate--I always keep five percent in reserve, just in case I run into a yugi-oh villain somewhere) Control's going a little slower and too melodramatic at the moment, and needs some serious editing for part nine. (Though part ten is coming along beautifully and will probably be about fifty pages long, unspaced between paragraphs by the time I'm done...Argh. Stop angsting on me, Tsuka-pon!) It's just I've been taking some small breaks here and there and these lovely little bit-fics turn up.

Here's more on this one in particular, and how the strange idea struck me.

For the record, fairytale-wise this was _not _inspired by the tale of the frog prince (though it probably seems to share a few aspects with it), but by a real RUSSIAN fairy tale called the Frog Princess. The storyline is much different, containing no real essential fluffy kissing, but has her need to slip back into her frog skin each night as the result of a spell until she has been happily married to the Csar's youngest son. When the Csar assigns the wives of all three brothers various tasks, she comes out of her skin and commands servants from her land to bring back things for her, and thus cheats most wonderfully, winning the heart of her little boy prince, all the while maintaining the form of a lovely little green frog. When her husband burns the frog skin out of either longing to see his beautiful wife in her human form or simply out of curiosity (I've read two different versions), she returns to her pond, weeping, no longer able to retain human form, her life forfeit to three witches in a breach of contract. No kissing required. But the idea that frog princesses get returned to their ponds brought about the idea for this a little bit. (I recommend Russian fairy tales heavily if you've never read them. They're beautiful, really.) Anyway, I made some slight allusions either from that, or perhaps a pessimistic philosophical consideration of the more commonly known frog PRINCE story (What about all the little frog princesses left without a prince because of some greedy, lazy human girl plucking him up, smooching him, and stealing him away?) And well...about how the pairing that used these fairy tales got into my head in the first place? Um...well...you see...er...it's a long story. And a different one as well. And if you ever see it...I'll be sure to tell you that it was my springboard for this.

This bit-fic's pairing idea was brought about by yet another bit-fic which exists as a story told only in dialogue between characters with no outside description (I thought it would be about the best challenge I could create for myself, given my customary overly descriptive stylings). That particular springboard happens to be very dark and depressing and deals with the subject of gossip and maliciousness. (Oh the drama!) At the moment it also contains a kooky NakauraXAmouXItsuki love triangle dialogue for which I really have no idea how that came about...(sighs) Oro. The fic may or may not ever come up here, it depends on how good I deem it. And it already is quite...odd by my current standards. It may very well never make it up here...or perhaps it may become more normal or change enough so that it's almost guaranteed to post...a lot of weird things can happen to my bits-n-pieces of plotbunnies folder.

Man I'm depressing. I was surprised by how similar the tone of this became to that of Control, and also that of my little Mana/Tsukasa one shot from before...weird. But it's got a realistic cynisism/hope thing going on here that thus far is rather unique. None of my oneshots will ever come from exactly the same sort of universe as my 'epic' fics though so...it isn't from the control storyline...neither of them are...it just...sounds far more similar than some of my other stuff...yeah actually come to think of it, I'm going to simply go with calling the whole even weird and not dwelling on it. Hmm. It's also the first fic I've written from Itsuki's POV (he's really popular so I bet it'll be a hit, even with the odd pairing)

Anyway. I don't know WHERE this fic came from really insofar as ideas go, being idea-based. It was just a random collision of thoughts in my head, really. There was no real pre-organization. I just wrote what came into my head under the effects of a migraine, and edited it a few times until I was happy with it. I AM happy about it too (well, alright, I'm still wondering where the Hell that pairing came into my head from...but whatever. I'm happy with the rest of it, and it actually turned out so well that I don't mind anymore.) I know there are a few Itsuki/Tsukasa fans around here that should be quite happy to see this, too. (poor guys, they're liable to starve themselves with the scrawny pickings of non-TXT pairings in THIS fandom. (Tries to spoon soup into the mouthes of the starving Itsukasa fans) Come on guys, don't die on me... (worried)) Yeah, again the big shock for me is not the subject, but the pairing for this one--that's how I was stretched by writing THIS fic...I would have never given it a second thought before this (I mean, aside from what I wrote for my bio in the pairings section) I thought it would be a pairing for other people to do when they felt like it, but NEVER did I think I would do it myself. (Poor Tsukasa, he's really freaked out. (laughs) Not that _that _ever seems to stop me. I seem to like to torture him...I'm in such a weird mood...Oro.)

The first part of the fic is supposed to make it seem a touch ambiguous who he has it for. Kaname/Itsuki is a lot more common than what I chose, so I intended to try to let minds assume that I was doing Kaname/Itsuki (Which truthfully is probably one pairing I'll probably never do...Kaname gives me some trouble. I need to work on him alot. He's hard for me to write in anything.) then suddenly when I make the reference to the scene in the back of book three where you first see Tsukasa's scars and he's got that cutesy little posture thing going, then the minds jump and say 'waitaminute! He likes AMOU! Oh my GOD!' Hee. That was quite deliberate, and quite sadistic of me. I really would like to know if I had you going along with it, oh dear reader of my comments, because I really would like to know if my trap worked--that means my skill in that area of story-weaving has improved and has a good deal less knots to it. If not, then I'd like to know if I should practice more, that's all. And I suppose I probably ruined it by saying this is what I did, but whatever. I am well aware of plot device. (smirk)

The big pond allusion that will probably confuse at least one person not used to my extreme allegorical stylisms, I likewise just thought up. Women as frogs, certain people as birds, a sky of hope…Okay. I'm a florida native. And aside from there being a bunch of weird critters around in it, I think someone should pave over the everglades because it smells funky. Any swamp will smell funky if it's worth its weight in beans, so will most ponds because the water's stagnant. It breed mosquitoes, diseases, and of course--frogs in abundance. You often run into a couple of hunting birds hanging around once it gets good enough to breed either frogs or fish. Osprey are fish hawks, so are the famous bald eagles, and I know a good deal of herons that hunt those sorts of things, so, right, Birds. Birds can be around a pond. Most people wouldn't be caught dead wading in a swampy pond trying to catch frogs. However, I _have _waded out in the everglades (faithfully plugging my nose) and in a pond too. If you get deep into the murk, surrounded by trees and the stink of who-knows-what growing in that little stink hole, you look up at the sky and it seems seriously far away. You see birds flying around in the fresh air, and you seriously start to hate them. One poops on your shoulder when you lean against a tree, and you're ready to slingshot the creepy little bird! (realizes what she's saying) Oh…yes…right…well…I suppose I have a reputation for violence to birds, but I suppose my OTHER points got across. (I hope)

Characterizing war as being like a pond--especially a centuries old war like the aquarian age--stagnant, filthy, loathsome…I didn't find it too far off, and it certainly also fit in with the frog theme I had to start off with. The hit of Amou as a bird (it should have been obvious, I know) didn't come about until the third day, strangely enough. Then I added in the part about Nakaura being like a buzzard--okay, confession: buzzards are pretty big, and mostly black, that's the main reason why he's a buzzard and not a 'prettier bird' of some kind. I have a special fondness for vultures actually, so I didn't find it to be a bad thing until empathy struck me over the head on the final read. Itsuki doesn't exactly have a positive impression of the guy first off. Even if _I_ happen to hold nothing against him, I'm characterizing from a different point of view, so I have no choice in the matter.

(A big step that first writers don't seem to realize is that it's a big point when you stop writing characters as yourself, and instead start to give them their own personality and outlook. It's like acting in a way--though I'm terrible at acting, and am a good deal better at writing…)

Anyway…I also gave Amou a sort of mystery to him which I don't normally do, but Itsuki basically gets closest to Kirihara and Kaname in the series, and while he communicates with Amou (and basically makes a heal-beggar of himself) you actually see him talk and carry on with Shiba more than Amou even, and with Nakaura even less, except when he's getting into trouble with him (or mildly rebuking him for battling with Kaname). Thus, you can kind of see his own sort of little preferences of friends, even among the mindbroken group, and of course, his sister. Haruna's more of a mystery characterization since there's so little on her in the series, but you can tell they're close. So actually…Amou would probably be more of a mystery to him to piece out, should something like this ever happen, or so I figured I could deduce and fudge. I could be wrong, but it's a characterization, not a law, so that's actually rather unlikely.

As ever, if you like the fic but decide my personality fits your idea of a friend candidate and would like to attack me, (smile) I'm available in many varieties of places during school days or whenever else I can get to school and get up things. LJ is my particular refuge, but I also keep an eye on the forum here, and I have email, and of course, reviews. Any means of contact that is best to you to tell me your opinion of my story will be treasured and cherished for future generations to gape at (not really, but it's a nice thought, isn't it? and I sometimes DO gape if you have your heart set on it). Tell me what you think of the pairing by the way (especially if you are a secret supporter of Itsukasa!), and as ever, the list of pervy and outlandish pairings grows ever longer in my bio and is always in need of a few more creative touches (Are you a Tsukasa/Isshin supporter? If so, then tell me! That sort of thing…) Review as you wish!

Ever the fandom servant (and self ordained ranter),

-Neurofeces

PS. LONG LIVE THE G.E.E.K. FACTION!


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